


Be Good, For Goodness' Sake

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne Enterprises is having its annual holiday charity ball, and somehow mild-mannered Clark Kent is the hit of the party.  How did this happen?  And why is it making Bruce so mad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Good, For Goodness' Sake

It all started with Zatanna.

The top floor of Wayne Towers might seem an odd place for a magic show, but Zatanna Zatara had agreed to do a performance for Wayne Enterprises’ annual holiday charity ball. She was far from the only member of the superhero community in attendance, either--Bruce spotted Doctor Light, Booster Gold, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Batgirl, Red Robin, and Supergirl among the crowd. Selina Kyle was in civilian clothes and flirting outrageously with Wildcat, who was eating it up. There was even an annoyed Robin putting up with women calling him “adorable.”

No Batman, of course. Batman was hardly going to make an appearance at a _party,_ of all things.

Bruce Wayne smirked slightly to himself and continued to make the rounds as Zatanna began her magician’s patter on the stage.

He caught a glimpse of Clark Kent, notepad in hand, talking earnestly with John Stewart. The reporter was looking particularly rumpled tonight in a distinctly hideous plaid polyester suit. Bruce shuddered. Had Kent picked that up in the 70s while jaunting around with Rip Hunter?

Zatanna continued with her act, summoning candy out of thin air for a delighted child and making a nervous woman’s diamond earrings disappear for a moment. “I’ll need a volunteer from the audience for my next trick,” she announced, waving her top hat with a flourish. “You, sir, in the plaid suit.” She plunged into the crowd and emerged with Clark Kent on her arm. Once on the stage, she handed Clark her top hat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister...”

“Kent,” Clark said. “And really, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Zatara.” He smiled and Zatanna--to Bruce’s surprise--blushed pink and almost dropped her wand. It wasn’t like Zatanna to become flustered so easily. On the other hand, Bruce had to admit that Clark Kent’s smile, close up and focused, was rather devastating.

As Zatanna walked Clark through the trick, which involved his holding on to her top hat while she pulled a variety of things from it, Bruce found himself frowning. Was it really necessary for Kent to stand _so_ close to her for this trick? Or be _quite_ so complimentary about her skill? If Bruce didn’t know better, he would say Clark was actually _flirting_ with her.

Zatanna certainly seemed to think so, as she was practically fluttering her eyelashes at him while she pulled scarves and doves from the hat, ending with a bouquet of long-stemmed white roses which shouldn’t have been able to fit there at all. As applause rippled around the room, Clark took one of the roses and tucked it behind Zatanna’s ear, leaning in to whisper something to her that made Zatanna blush even more. “No, thank _you_ ,” she said as Clark turned to leave the stage.

Then, as Clark started to walk away, she reached out and placed a distinct pat on his behind.

Clark jumped a bit but kept going. Bruce, on the other hand, froze with his drink halfway to his lips. Had Zatanna really just swatted Clark Kent on the butt? Bruce was surprised to find a distinct sense of irritation roiling in his gut at the performance. The two of them up there, flirting shamelessly--it was annoying. Not that Bruce had any claim at all an Zatanna; their youthful flirtation had faded to cautious friendship at best. But still, Kent was pretty gutsy to make eyes at her so publicly.

Bruce wasn’t at all sure he liked the familiar way Zatanna had touched him. It was understandable, certainly--Zatanna was aware of Clark’s secret and probably couldn’t resist the opportunity to secretly pat Superman’s behind. One couldn’t really blame any woman for wanting to feel the hidden tautness under the ill-fitting clothes. But still. Right there in public! And Clark didn’t even stop her!

Bruce frowned to himself and tried to focus on the conversation between two Gotham dowagers that he was at least nominally part of. Zatanna finished her magic show and a string quartet took her place; the gentle strains of Borodin drifted through the crowd. Bruce started to relax, annoyed with himself for his strange reaction to some harmless flirting.

Then he glanced over to see Diana dancing with Clark.

She was wearing a white gown, with her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. She looked stunning--and more so than usual, because she was laughing. Diana always laughed whole-heartedly, she never giggled or tittered, and at that moment her head was flung back in peals of laughter at something Clark had said.

Clark, for his part, looked bemused to find himself dancing with a goddess. It seemed a terrible mismatch, the princess and the polyester suit, but Bruce knew better than most people there how well-suited the two were. For all his slouching, he moved deftly around the floor with Diana, hinting at a grace all the more impressive for being hidden. And of course he could make Diana laugh like that--people sometimes accused Superman of having no sense of humor, but Clark Kent had a sly, ironic wit that could be self-mocking or devastatingly deflating.

Bruce found himself suddenly seized by an impulse to go cut in on the two. Which was ridiculous--they weren’t even _flirting,_ just dancing like good comrades and friends.

Though perhaps just a _trifle_ too close for friends, Bruce added mentally.

Diana’s hands slid down Clark’s back and Bruce heard a grinding sound that he suddenly realized was his own teeth. Did Diana have to appear so all-fired _relaxed_ with Clark? Admittedly, it was hard _not_ to relax around Clark, Bruce acknowledged; he had a way of putting one at ease without even noticing it which was...very disarming.

Diana certainly appeared disarmed.

Bruce forced himself to look away. He wasn’t going to start second-guessing the friendship between Clark and Diana, which had always seemed so brotherly. If Diana were interested in a romance with Clark, she probably would have even mentioned it to Bruce at some point. She wasn’t one to be coy about such things.

He pointedly didn’t watch them dance through the rest of the song, focusing intently on Lucius Fox instead.

When he glanced back, Vicky Vale was deep in conversation with Clark.

Bruce felt his jaw drop and clamped it shut. Was Clark going to flirt with _all_ of Bruce’s former girlfriends--semi-girlfriends--whatever--tonight? Vicky was twirling a lock of her hair around her finger, something she always did when she was flirting, and she was leaning awfully close to Clark. Bruce felt baffled outrage churn inside him. Zatanna and Diana he could understand: they knew Clark Kent was secretly the Man of Steel, after all. But as far as Batman knew--which was saying a lot--Vicky had no idea she was chatting with Superman. Making intense eye contact with Superman.

Running her finger up and down Superman’s tie!

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine,” Bruce said carelessly to a concerned look from Lucius. If there was one thing Lucius Fox had learned by now, it was that when Bruce Wayne looked worried, it might be best to leave the party early.

Not that Bruce looked _worried_. That would be silly.

Was Vicky doing this to get back at him, Bruce, somehow? She had been bitter about their failed relationship recently, yes. Maybe she was flirting with Clark to make Bruce jealous?

But she wasn’t sneaking glances at him. Her attention was totally undivided. She seemed to find Clark, in fact, enthralling. And why not?

When he thought about it, Vicky being attracted to Clark Kent seemed almost inevitable. He might be able to hide his powers, but it was more difficult to hide his intelligence. And they were both reporters: Clark had dated Lois Lane in the past, why not Vicky? They were both witty, gorgeous and brave, after all. Yes, this seemed a match made in heaven.

None of which explained why Bruce wanted to throw something at the couple as Vicky said something that made Clark laugh, his eyes crinkling with humor behind the thick glasses. Surely a woman as smart as Vicky couldn’t fail to see that the man was drop-dead gorgeous when he smiled.

Bruce wished with a fierce and terrible urgency that Clark would stop smiling.

He took a couple of deep breaths, realizing dimly that Lucius had given up even pretending to speak with him and had left him standing alone, glaring at Clark and Vicky. This was _insane._ He was acting like a possessive nutcase, freaking out anytime someone put a hand on his harem of beauties. None of these woman were _his_ , not in the slightest. He wasn’t even interested in dating them, much as he cared about them.

So why, why, _why_ was his blood boiling whenever Clark got close to any of them?

He tried to distract himself by wandering over to where Zatanna was showing a captivated Booster how Three-Card Monte worked. It was somehow relaxing to watch Zatanna trick Booster into picking the wrong card over and over, and Bruce found the repetitive motion of the cards soothing. There was no reason to be so rattled about this. So Clark was being a little cozy with a variety of women tonight. No big deal. Bruce was totally--

“Oh my,” said Zatanna, her eyes widening as she looked past Bruce at something.

Bruce turned to see Clark and Selina standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

Selina was twining her arms around his neck, bending his head down to meet hers, her smile hovering between sultry and mischievous as his lips approached hers.

Bruce Wayne’s body seemed to move on instinct. The next thing he knew he was charging across the ballroom to lunge between the couple and snatch the mistletoe off the door jamb above them. He pivoted to shake the innocuous bunch of leaves in Clark’s astonished face. “No kissing!” he snarled.

“But I--”

“--and keep your hands to yourself!” Bruce snapped. “You’ve been pawing half the women here all night, and I won’t have it.”

There was a stifled giggle behind him and he whirled to see Selina gazing at him, her eyes wide and innocent. “This is _not funny_ ,” Bruce announced, indignation choking him.

“No, this is totally ridiculous!” Clark exclaimed. “I don’t know what your big problem is, but--”

Bruce grabbed his arm. “Come with me.” He steered Clark out of the ballroom and into one of the abandoned hallways of Wayne Towers. “What are you _doing_ , Kent? You’re making a spectacle of yourself!”

Clark folded his arms and looked at Bruce as if he were worried the Dark Knight had lost his bat-marbles. “You are not making any sense,” he said levelly.

“I saw you with Zatanna! And Diana! And Vicky, and Selina! You were all over them!” Bruce realized he was still holding the bunch of mistletoe; with a growl he tossed it to the ground.

“Bruce, I was just being friendly, and so were they. Zatanna _asked_ me to flirt with her, for the act. Diana and Vicky are colleagues.” He paused. “Okay, I admit Selina was more than just friendly.”

“You admit--!” Bruce jabbed a finger at Clark’s polyester-clad chest. “Stop. Flirting,” he hissed.

Clark looked torn between anger and worry. “Bruce, what the _hell_ is wrong with you? Why are you singling me out?”

“I am not singling you out!”

Clark shook his head. “Selina was _making out_ with Wildcat earlier, and I didn’t see you charging in to defend her honor then! And Booster Gold was practically trying to get into Zatanna’s fishnets and you didn’t bat an eye! So what’s your problem with _me_ , huh?”

Bruce opened his mouth for another furious retort. But it _was_ strange, he realized before he could say anything. Clark was right. He hadn’t gotten tied up in knots when Wildcat was kissing Selina, and he had just laughed when Vicky Vale was pointedly flirting with Dick Grayson. _Come on, detective._ What was the pattern? What did all those infuriating situations have in common?

Bruce closed his mouth.

Oh. _Oh._

Oh.

“Well then,” he said briskly as Clark continued to look annoyed and alarmed, “I’m sorry I lost my cool. That was...very sexist of me. Let’s just get back to the party, shall we?” He turned and started back toward the ballroom at a decent pace--not _fleeing_ , he wasn’t _fleeing._

He rounded the corner and almost ran into Diana, Zatanna, Vicky and Selina.

“Oh, hello, ladies!” he blurted. “What a strange coincidence, running into...all of you...at once.” He summoned his most dazzling playboy smile. “May I just say that you all look absolutely ravishing tonight?”

From the gleeful smiles on their faces--touched with just enough malice to be convincing--it was clear the playboy act wasn’t going to work right now.

“I do believe the world’s greatest detective has found a _clue_ ,” said Zatanna.

“Did you see his face when he rounded that corner? Like the hounds of hell were on his tail,” noted Diana.

“That’s nothing,” said Vicky. “You should have seen his face when he saw Selina under the mistletoe with him.”

“But the way you were fondling his tie!” chortled Selina. “He looked like he’d choked on a batarang. I would say mission accomplished, girls.”

Bruce found his discomfort temporarily derailed at the sight of Selina high-fiving Vicky and Zatanna sharing a fist-bump with Diana. He edged forward, hoping to make his getaway, but found the corridor blocked by a stern-faced goddess with incongruously twinkling eyes.

“Now Bruce,” Diana said, shaking a finger at him. “You’ve said this is a new era of partnership and emotional honesty for you--”

“--I said no such thing,” sputtered Bruce.

“Well, you _implied_ it,” Diana said. “So we think it’s time for you to start being emotionally honest.”

“With yourself, for starters,” said Vicky.

“With someone else after that,” added Zatanna.

Bruce didn’t dare to look behind him. “He might not even be _interested_ ,” he said, trying to snarl and sounding horrifyingly plaintive instead. “You want me to risk ruining a perfectly good working relationship--a perfectly good _friendship_ \--”

The women weren’t looking at him. They were looking behind him and grinning. “I don’t think there’s much risk here, Bruce,” said Selina, her voice surprisingly gentle.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned.

Clark had picked up the discarded mistletoe and was holding it and smiling, a hesitant, almost shy smile that made Bruce’s chest tighten. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of cute when you’re jealous?” he asked.

“Not really, no,” said Bruce. He heard Selina snort.

Clark chuckled and glanced away for a second, looking much more like an uncertain mortal than a godlike superhuman. He held out the mistletoe. “Well, I think you are.”

What the hell, thought Bruce. Let’s do this with some style.

He stepped forward to grab the mistletoe from Clark’s hand and sweep him into a kiss, hearing a few gasps and giggles behind him. The kiss started showy and theatrical, but over time--it was not a quick kiss--settled into something much more intimate and tender, almost awkward. There were lips and breaths and questing tongues and murmured names, and Bruce lost track of time along with the fact that they were being watched.

By the time the kiss ended the two of them were alone in the corridor, staring at each other with slightly flushed faces.

“So,” said Clark.

“Indeed.”

“So we’re--”

“--Yes.”

“Good.” Clark kissed him again. “Though I have to wonder,” he said thoughtfully. “How did they ever come up with that? Diana and Zatanna know each other, but the rest of them aren’t close. And to be honest, the idea of Zatanna and Selina working together for _anything_ boggles the mind.”

“Good question,” said Bruce. “What do you think?” he asked, addressing the security camera on the wall.

The camera swiveled from one face to the other. “I think it’s a Christmas miracle,” intoned a computer-filtered voice from the ceiling speakers.

“Oracle.” Bruce looked resigned. “Of course.” He crossed his arms and glowered at the camera. “You know, you are the worst meddler in the universe.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m quite good at it. I’m like Santa, you know. _I see you when you’re sleeping, I know when you’re awake, I know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness’ sake_.” The voice paused and the camera waggled back and forth between them. “Hey, carry on, boys. Don’t let me interrupt your fun. It was just getting--”

There was a sharp _ping_ of metal on glass a moment before the camera melted into slag.

Clark re-adjusted his glasses, then bent down and retrieved a bat-shaped bit of metal from the floor. “Batarang cufflinks?” He turned it over in his hand and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. “They actually work?”

Bruce took it from him and refastened it with dignity. “Of course they do.”

“Of course they do,” Clark echoed, smiling.

“Oracle was right, though,” said Bruce.

“She was?”

“Yes. It _was_ just getting good.” Bruce leaned in to capture Clark’s mouth again. “And it’s just going to get better,” he murmured.


End file.
